The Tanzania People & Wildlife Fund and the Honeyguide Foundation (HGF) have launched a partnership to strengthen our joint community-based conservation initiatives across northern Tanzania.

The long-term partnership will begin with joint programming for human-wildlife conflict (HWC) prevention and evolve into a comprehensive community-based conservation collaboration.

“Conservation challenges are numerous across northern Tanzania,” said Dr. Laly Lichtenfeld, Executive Director of the Tanzania People & Wildlife Fund. “Progress at a large-scale requires the efforts of multiple partners who commit to real, functioning collaborations.”

Both Honeyguide and TPW have developed highly technical and proven community-based strategies for achieving these ends, including Honeyguide’s Human-Elephant Conflict (HEC) Toolkit to protect farms from elephants and other animals, and TPW’s Living Walls to protect livestock from predators, such as lions and leopards.

Our organizations work closely with individuals at the household level on HWC mitigation. In addition, we couple these critical prevention projects with training and education outreach to transform communities’ perceptions on the importance of biodiversity conservation.

Honeyguide and TPW have already begun to collaborate with communities among Enduimet WMA, Burunge WMA, the nascent Natron WMA, and the migratory corridor between the Tarangire-Manyara and Lake Natron ecosystems.

“For years, our organizations have seen the potential of partnering together,” said Damian Bell, Honeyguide’s executive director. “It has happened gradually and organically, and now we’re moving full ahead with joint programming across multiple landscapes.”

Africa is the land of diversity, hosting a vast amount of biological and cultural variance within each of its 53 countries. Biologists and David Attenborough fans all over the world know it for its unique, charismatic species: The roaring, the stampeding, and the larger-than-life. Anthropologists and Human Planet fans know it for its lion hunters, its hunter-gatherers, and its fascinating traditions that have been remarkably preserved through time. As a single country, by certain measures Tanzania contains more distinct peoples and languages than there are countries in the world (see Hirst, 1972). It is a land rich in history, and draws thousands of tourists every year for a walk on the wild side.

Our staff at the Noloholo Environmental Center are from all over Tanzania: the slopes of Kilimanjaro and Mount Meru to the islands of Lake Victoria; the bustling metropolis of Dar es Salaam to the small rural villages surrounding our environmental center. Most tourists bypass our little corner of the country beside Tarangire National Park, but this year we benefitted from two National Geographic Student Expeditions that came from all over the world to add a little bit of big-cat- conflict education to their photo and wildlife safari.

(Photo by Charlotte Thorson, caption by Joseph Peralta)

Each group spent a day in the communities surrounding our Noloholo Environmental Centre building the protective enclosures for local homesteads (‘bomas’) we call Living Walls. Nothing brings people together like hard labor (except perhaps Tammy), which has a way of completely leveling social stratification. In the warm afternoon sun the same beads of sweat were glistening on the skin of the students, leaders, boma residents, office staff, field officers, and even our executive directors. As holes were dug, Commiphora poles were planted, and fencing was nailed around the enclosure, students and local community members bonded — with smiles and kind gestures when no one was available for translation.

(Photo by Sitara Pal, caption by Fefe Malton)

In the history of the world, ethnic diversity has not always been tied to positive things. Often, cultural differences have had negative outcomes like social and economic inequality, which has many times led to violence and suffering. On those two sizzling afternoons in Northern Tanzania, the same red earth dusted the faces and coated the multicolored hands of many regions, hands that were working together towards one goal. That goal was peace between two different kinds of neighbors: humans and wildlife.

In an area where lions and other big cats roam among the herds of Maasai cows, Living Walls reduce attacks on livestock and consequent retaliation on lions. The walls mark the union of two unique pools of knowledge, and during the wall building, those two bomas on the Maasai Steppe marked the union of many different cultures. It may have been just me, but I think I caught a glimpse of the ideal world, and it looks pretty beautiful.

You can sponsor a family’s Living Wall by donating to our program here.

Sources for this post:

Hirst, M.A. (1972). Tribal mixture and migration in Tanzania: an evaluation and analysis of census tribal data. Canadian Geographer16: 230-248.

“In a few years to come, the world will only see the rare lion spoor on the sandy soil. If the wind blows, then even those spoor will go.” One extraordinary Maasai warrior shares his message for the world about the future of big cats. Elvis Kisimir experiences the full extent of familial responsibility while pursuing a career in wildlife in a story about how early exposure ignited a passion that transformed into the protection of lions and rural livelihoods in Tanzania. He tells his own tale of his metamorphosis from a young schoolboy who is scared of lions to the head of Human Wildlife Conflict Prevention for the African People and Wildlife Fund, and a Disney Conservation Hero.

My name is Elvis Kisimir. Born in Loibor Siret, and a Maasai by tribe, I love people, wildlife, and nature.

During my life I have experienced many changes in both the community and the environment that I live in. My father was a primary school teacher, and my mother was a nurse working at the health centre in the village of Emboreet who used to fly with doctors to different areas of the Maasai Steppe. When I was a young kid, sometimes if I cried, my mother would tell me, “Stop crying because the lions are behind the house.” I would stop crying immediately because I thought the lions might break into the house and take me. At that time the lions were very many, and I would hear them roaring almost every day: in the evening, at night, even early in the morning. When I met with friends to play together we always asked each other if everyone had heard the lions roaring in the night.

In 1991, my father stopped working as a primary school teacher. He took some courses on tourism and was employed as a tour guide at one of the companies in Arusha. During that time he worked very hard because he liked his new job, so I would see him a few times a year at most. I started boarding school at Simanjiro Primary School in Emboreet, and some days I would see him, in a big tourist truck or a Land Rover, stop by the school before going on to Tarangire through the Loibor Siret ranger post.

In December of that year, when the school was closed for Christmas, my father bought us a television. Most of the movies he bought were about wildlife because he wanted to understand more about these animals, as this it related to his new job and he wanted his children to see how various wild animals lived. The two movies that I won’t forget are Masai Mara and Londolozi, and some of those images have stayed in my mind until now. In the Masai Mara film a girl was nearly killed by a lion when she went out to play tennis, but she was rescued by people from the house – this was the flashback that I had when my mother would tell me that the lions were behind the house waiting to break in and take me. I would sit close to my father and ask him many questions, so I came to understand many things concerning wildlife. When I asked about the girl in the Masai Mara film, he told me,“My son, this is not reality. We are living together with wildlife in our environment. You always hear lions roaring at night. They are not bad creatures unless you disturb them. According to our tradition, you can be harmed or even killed by lion if you are cursed by your clan. You are a man, and in a few years time you will become a warrior, son!”

I learned many things from my father — this was the starting point of my dreams. There was a hope in my life that one day I would be like him.

In 1998, my father decided to make Narakauo his main homestead, 15 kilometers from Loibor Siret centre. According to the Maasai tradition, the eldest son has the greatest responsibility in the family. I was the only son to my father, so I had to work hard to make sure the family was fine. I completed my high school education in 2006, after which I took over some of my father’s responsibilities, making it very difficult for me to go for further studies. The next year I got married, and here you can imagine that I needed to work very hard because the responsibilities were mounting in my day-to-day life.

In 2010 I was employed at the African People and Wildlife Fund heading the Human-Wildlife Conflict program for the organization, which has headquarters in Loibor Siret. I saw as the realization of my dreams because I had already created trust in the locals I worked with, which is very important to me. During the time I have been working under Dr. Laly and Charles, I have learned many things concerning wildlife and environment in general, and I want to thank them for all they have showed me by becoming a good local conservationist.

What I have found surprising and amazing in my work experience is when you find different reactions to incidents of human-wildlife conflict. You can find that 20 goats or sheep have been killed by hyenas and the owners don’t take immediate action, but if one juvenile lion has killed a single calf, immediately you find people gather together from different age groups. Everyone wants to listen, and it is a time when each person shows the rest how much he knows about lions. The lesson here I learned is this: The lion is the most important creature in the Maasai tradition.

There was one day in a conversation with Dr. Laly when she said, “If you hear lions roaring, fighting for territory, that means things are balanced: rainfall, grasses, breeding…” This idea made me think back to the time when I was around 12 years old and lions were roaring almost every day in our area, the rainfall was enough for everything that needed it to survive, and many areas were still wild, with not as much human activity as nowadays.

I have discussed this with some of the adults and elders in the communities I work in, and they agree, saying, “At that time lions were everywhere. Every year we would get enough rainfall, and we didn’t have to sell cattle to buy maize because we had a lot of milk to fill ourselves, with the livestock eating well and breeding every year.”

So my message to my fellow Maasai and the world in general:

“In a few years to come, the world will only see the rare lion spoor on the sandy soil. If the wind blows, then even those spoor will go.”

The meaning of this message is that for the small number of lions we have now, for locals and the world in general, if we are not serious about protecting them, we are going to lose all of them. Avoid conflicts with them, and don’t shrink their habitat by developing human activities in their territories. If we do that, hopefully in a few years to come the new generation will both hear and see the king of the Maasai Steppe roaring.

Lastly, if there are no lions, there are no warriors. Your lion is my lion. Let’s preserve lions for the generations and generations to come.

Summer Camp: For many, the term brings fond memories of campfires, fast friendships, ”cannon balls” into cold water, mess halls, and hiding from the counselors when they tell you to go to sleep. For many families in North America, summer camp is a given.

In the communities that we work in here on the Maasai Steppe, summer camp is a little different. For those students who participate, our Noloholo Environmental Camps are highly competitive, involving a combined evaluation from school grades in addition to two separate tests. And if they don’t study, even the best students can’t assume they will get in, with only five boys and five girls taken from each school. When they finish their tests, students wait anxiously to hear whether they will be taking the bumpy ride to camp in our trusty lorry. For those whose names are called, you will never see children run as fast to get permission forms signed by their parents. For those whose names are not called, some can try again next year, and a gentle pep talk from our Conservation Education program officer, Neovitus “Neo” Sianga, returns smiles to the children’s faces.

This year, we added three new primary schools to the environmental camp program: Emboret, Loibor Soit, and Mbuko. So far, we have held two weeks of camp: one for the students of Loibor Soit and Mbuko, and the second for Kangala and Emboret. As per usual, and especially for the new schools, students entered cautiously, with wary glances at unfamiliar foods (like bread and peanut butter). But also as per usual, they quickly became accustomed to camp, and the initial timidity dissolved with the small candy rewards they placed in their mouths. By the end of the week, virtually every arm went up when a question was posed.

On the list of draws for the kids, camp provides three good meals plus two snacks a day, a severe lack of chores, clean rooms to sleep in, and absolutely no physical punishment. Our Conservation Education duo consisting of Neo and Revocatus Magayane use teaching methods that are both instructive and fun, which are two words that aren’t often used in the same sentence here on the Maasai Steppe. Children receive prizes for raising their hands, games of tag teach lessons about ecological relationships, and game drives treat them to a different perspective on the wildlife that live in their own backyards. Each day, campers have lessons on topics from ecology and natural history, to project management and astronomy, while at the same time learning about what our team does here for conservation. Lessons are taught in dynamic and interactive ways that are constantly raising their confidence in important life skills such as public speaking, organization, and debate. They are exposed to role models such as our own Joyce Ndakaru and Elvis Kisimir, and on culture day, even our interns get involved in presenting their own special family traditions alongside Maasai elders. At the end of the week every attendee receives a certificate of completion, and the most actively participating boy and girl receive their deserved recognition. Each and every child goes home a little bit wiser, a little bit braver, and a little bit plumper.

In the coming years, climate change will transform the world in ways that we have not predicted. The king of the big cats has already survived two major periods of change, but with humans quickly taking over valuable grassland habitat, will they be able to survive another? On the Maasai Steppe of Tanzania, lions have long shared the land with herds of cattle that require the same large tracts of grassland as they do. With a common goal, perhaps these age-old enemies can find truce – their survival might depend on it.

By Deirdre Leowinata

The rolling sea of long, golden grasses that characterize Africa’s savannas serve not only as representations of the unique ecosystems of this expansive continent but also as symbols of a quietly but precisely balanced climate. Its inhabitants, such as the thorn acacia, whose stiff barbs threaten to impale anyone who dares to let his mind wander as he walks, may be built to withstand both heat and jaws, but the combination of climate change and human population growth could threaten the resilience of the plains.

The modern lion, the flagship species of Africa, has already survived two global freeze-thaw cycles characterized here by rhythmic expansions and contractions of deserts and forests that separated populations, creating genetically different subspecies. Widespread aridity in northern and southern Africa during these periods reduced lion populations in these regions. Today, the estimated 32, 000 lions of the continent are sentinels of intact ecosystems, but these areas are undergoing huge changes.

Between 1960 and 2010, the human population of sub-Saharan Africa increased four-fold from 229 million to 863 million and is expected to double by 2060. In the Tarangire ecosystem of Tanzania where we work, we may have one of the remaining lion strongholds, and we are working very hard to ensure that it remains that way. Because our goal is to keep lions around for the long run, and not just the next few years, we must to take into account long-term changes, such as the potential effects of a changing climate.

In these semi-arid landscapes, pastoralism, if done sustainably, is a productive use of land. It benefits the ecosystem and the wildlife that inhabit it through grazing movements that fertilize the soil and promote new vegetation growth. But as climates change, another creature is showing signs of peril: the Maasai cow.

Increasingly erratic rainfall is now threatening livestock populations with more frequent droughts, leaving many Maasai to rely more on small stock that have lower feed requirements such as goats and sheep. Smaller stock in larger numbers mean a faster rate of rangeland degradation, rendering the challenging task of sustainable grazing even greater as resources become scarce. In this part of Tanzania, current reports predict a 1.8- to 3.6-degree increase in temperature over the next 50 years, along with even less rainfall and a large increase in monthly evaporation. Undoubtedly, this will lead to losses in livestock and a discouraging economy for pastoralists. Contiguous rangelands will become more important than ever.

“The paradox of pastoralism is that it needs security to protect its flexibility.” (Galvin, 2009)

A loss of water security can give families incentive to privatize grazing land and also (somewhat counter-intuitively) to start farms to supplement their livelihoods. In the poor soil and already uncertain climate of the Steppe, meager stalks of corn struggle towards the sun; want of income is quickly splitting the golden sea with stretches of attempted cultivation. Compartmentalizing the landscape means losing ecosystem function, connectivity and resilience, so small stochastic events like droughts are more likely to affect larger proportions of both livestock and wildlife, endangering the famed Maasai cattle herds and the lions they have shared the land with for so long. The bottom line: The pastoral/wildlife system that is crucial to the functioning of the Maasai Steppe will collapse unless the land can be managed to maintain the movement of both livestock and wildlife.

The situation has resulted in a rather unusual opportunity for truce between big cats and cows. The question now is: Can predator and prey – who require the same habitat to survive – equally benefit from improved rangeland management on the Maasai Steppe?

The idea might not be so absurd, given the importance of both to rangeland inhabitants. In fact, it is a golden opportunity for conservationists to link the future of a natural, social, and cultural treasure to the continued existence of the Maasai’s greatest status symbol – the ultimate example of killing two birds with one stone. But the truth is that we are also dealing with two icons that have clashed for ages, and the quarrels may only get worse as the population grows, habitats shrink, and water becomes scarce.

Our team at Noloholo might just be what these two particular animals need. With wildlife conservation a main priority, and happiness of the community a necessity, the lions and cattle of the Steppe are our premiere clients. Our four main programs are poised to tackle the still somewhat ethereal problem of climate change with a long-term, whole-system approach to conservation. Elvis and his expert team of Big Cat Conflict officers can mediate any squabbles while our education and conservation enterprise teams help the community not only learn the best ways to manage their rangelands, but how to do so in a manner that provides environmentally-friendly opportunities for growing economically.

Like a fable of Aesop in itself, the moral “United we conquer, divided we fall” echoes true for the inhabitants of the Steppe. Since we already know the moral, there’s no reason this story shouldn’t have a happy ending.

Gathered women, waiting for a meeting to start, were quizzing Alison Nicholls, a visiting artist at APW’s Noloholo Environmental Center. Inquiries about children are common worldwide. However, to this group of Maasai and Swahili women, her answer was unthinkable.

“Why not?”

“My husband and I chose not to have children.”

Rushed chatter in Kiswahili and Kimaasai immediately prompted several offers.

“You can have one of my children.”

“How about a girl? Only this high,” indicating just over knee height.

Alison fended off the well-intentioned offers. Commenting that she only had one plane ticket back to the U.S. was her escape from an unsought adoption.

Where we operate on Tanzania’s Maasai Steppe, choosing childlessness is unthinkable. According to multiple Maasai staff at APW, eight is the minimum number of children a woman must have to be considered respectable. “More are better,” says Joyce Ndakaru, APW’s Conservation Enterprise and Development Officer anda very unconventional Maasai woman. “If you have five children, people will always ask: ‘why not more?’ You must have enough children to accommodate one or two deaths, and a few that do not have good personalities. Family planning is a bad word around here.”

Tanzania’s population is growing rapidly and shows no signs of slowing. Current UN estimates rank Tanzania as the world’s 26thmost populated country. But by 2050, Tanzania is predicted to jump to 13th place. Escalating human demands place increased stress on already limited big cat habitat. More people need more space and more food, but lions and cheetahs also need lots of room to wander. On the Maasai Steppe, more humans usually mean more cattle or cultivation, pushing out native lion prey and reducing grasslands. With fewer wildebeest and zebra to eat, lions are more liable to prey upon livestock, triggering retaliatory killings. Our Living Wall project is one initiative aimed at preventing such conflict. However, we also tackle conservation issues more broadly and in less obvious ways, for example by addressing women’s position in society.

The ladies chatting with Alison were waiting for a micro-grant award ceremony to start. So far this year, APW has provided start-up funds to 10 women’s groups as part of our environmentally friendly business initiative. To some, supporting women’s businesses might seem like an indirect step for women’s rights and wildlife conservation. Of course, encouraging sustainable livelihoods is an important part of what we hope to achieve with these grants. But by giving local women something they desire — additional income — we can also subtly change their position in society. Managing a beekeeping business, for example, gives many local women their first opportunity to have something completely their own, completely apart from male family members.

Joyce, our indefatigable Conservation Enterprise and Development Officer, is a fantastic example of how hard a Maasai woman must work to escape her society’s female norms. For several years she was her family’s black sheep. Joyce defied her parents to obtain a secondary education and thereby avoided marriage at 15 (a common age for Maasai girls to marry). Years later, she reconciled with her family. Marrying a Maasai man — “of my own choice,” she is quick to point out — undoubtedly helped. Today, she is proud of her two – yes, only two – children.

Now, Joyce routinely shocks young Maasai men as she works. Watching her switch among Swahili, Maasai, and English while directing emergent women’s groups, they comment, “How can a Maasai woman know so much?” Hopefully, through projects like the recently funded beekeeping businesses, young women choosing their own path will be less of a shock to the community in the future.

Along with supporting female empowerment and local economic development, these beekeeping businesses also promote habitat retention – the bottom line for big cat survival outside of protected areas. Tanzania’s National Beekeeping Policy of 1998 prevents people from cutting down trees around hives. So, each new beekeeping venture helps keep important lion, cheetah and leopard habitat open.

A win for women and wildlife – well, that’s exactly what we are hoping for.

The Maasai warriors of Tanzania are known around the world for their tradition of hunting lions. When a young warrior kills a lion, he is celebrated for his courage and skill in the face of a powerful beast. But as the human population grows, the lions are disappearing. The Maasai of the Tanzanian steppe now have a decision to make: to carry on tradition as is or to turn that age-old respect into protection. Two men, one lion-slayer and one young guardian, share their stories on how they came to protect the big cats in their communities.

The Maasai people of Tanzania may be one of the last of the world’s cultures that has maintained most of their traditions through the modern age. The lion hunt remains one of their most celebrated rituals, simultaneously honoring the big cat and praising young warriors for their bravery. (Photo by African People and Wildlife Fund/Deirdre Leowinata)

“If we wanted to kill the lion, we had to find someone we knew. It was necessary to find a friend who was not afraid, who could help – and then the lion didn’t escape”. Early one morning in the year 1998, Julius Laizer was called upon to be that friend.

The Maasai people of Tanzania and Kenya are said to be one of the last remaining cultures that haven’t allowed their traditions to be significantly affected by the outside world. In that, they are commonly known for three main things: their bold attire, their fondness for cattle, and their lion hunts.

For the Maasai, the lion hunt is a celebration of bravery reflecting their reverence and respect for the big cat as a primary foe. However, their relationship with the lion has become increasingly turbulent as the pastoralists confront an ever more populated landscape where conflicts between people and wildlife are on the rise. Warriors often put down their spears, replacing them with poison and guns. With lion populations plummeting across many parts of the continent, one spot on Tanzania’s Maasai Steppe shows refreshing signs of a recovering lion population and a Maasai community in a locally-motivated transition.

Julius Laizer is a Maasai elder living in the sprawling rangelands of Emboret. At just 23 years of age, he speared his first lion. Lucas Lengoje, who is 24 now, is one of the African People & Wildlife Fund’s Warriors for Wildlife, an important component of the Maasai Steppe Big Cats Conservation Initiative. The two men are warriors of different generations, and have chosen different paths, but both have put their spears down for a road that ensures their children don’t speak of a time when lions once roamed the steppe.

Julius Laizer, who still lives in his boma with his family in the village of Emboret on the Maasai steppe, recounts the story of his lion encounter early one morning in 1998. (Photo by African People and Wildlife Fund/Deirdre Leowinata)Lucas Lengoje is our APW Big Cat Conflict Officer in Narakauwo, a part of our Warriors for Wildlife team here on the steppe. Only 24 years old, he has already made the decision to lay down his spear and protect the lions for his children and the generations that follow. (Photo by African People and Wildlife Fund/Deirdre Leowinata)

“If lions are around, and our children are able to see them, I can say it will be good for me — I will have gotten my reward,” says Lucas, who already has four wives as per his family traditions. For Lucas, getting a job as a Big Cat Conflict Officer was the tipping point in his switch from hunter to defender. Not yet a full warrior, he has already made a decision that changes his entire way of life. In contrast, Julius was celebrated as a lion slayer at the same age, and a lucky photo of the celebration still hangs on his wall, though years have worn its original color.

What ties the two together is the one thing that keeps the lions out: Living Walls. An idea birthed from a combination of community knowledge and modern tools, the simple chain-link structure intertwined with Commiphora africana trees has played a big role in the changing attitudes of the Maasai people here.

“Since we installed the fence, we have not had any animals attack our livestock. Me, I installed mine in 2012*…and after that many people started asking me how I got the fence.”

Julius was one of the first community members in Emboret to install a Living Wall.

A young girl stands by her family’s Living Wall and looks on as the livestock enter the boma after a day of grazing. Over 350 bomas on the Maasai Steppe have installed Living Walls. The rest of the Maasai community must now decide whether the lions are worth a small change in tradition. (Photo by African People and Wildlife Fund/Deirdre Leowinata)

For Lucas, who is (pardon the pun) on the other side of the fence, the walls make his job a lot easier.

“First of all, I can say that people are now aware that there are solutions for human-wildlife conflict, because, even right now, these fences, the Living Walls…they help a lot. That’s why many people right now are asking for them to prevent the wild animals from entering their bomas.”

Living Walls are a simple concept derived from a synchrony of community knowledge and modern chain-link fencing, and have proved to be incredibly effective tools against livestock depredation. By working with communities, we have managed to create a solution that has a virtually 100% success rate. (Photo by African People and Wildlife Fund/Deirdre Leowinata)

In his home village of Narakauwo, Lucas is the first one on the scene if a cow or a goat is attacked. He is tasked with the considerable challenge of explaining why lions shouldn’t be hunted. “Lions, they are very important for us Maasai. If someone kills a lion, it can be very significant to them,” he says.

Lucas’s job is to go directly to sites of livestock attacks in his home village, to gather data, and to de-escalate the situation in order to prevent a lion hunt. The job is difficult in many ways, but for Lucas it is what he wants to be doing. (Photo by African People and Wildlife Fund/Deirdre Leowinata)

The tradeoff for vengeance and fame is peace with the animal they have clashed with for generations. But is that enough?

In the image hanging on the wall in Julius’ house, he holds the lion’s front paw, the customary prize for the second spearman, while his friend, the first, holds the tail. He has experienced firsthand the glory of the Maasai lion slayer, but has chosen a different future for the next generation of his family. Here, near the eastern edge of Tarangire National Park, the celebrated wild animals of this country frequent the farms and homesteads of the people who live nearby. The idea of a lion, a leopard, or a pack of hyenas paying your home a visit in the night may sound exciting, perhaps even welcome to some. But when your livelihood depends on the targets of those visits, it can become more than a little difficult to live with them.

Today, the warriors of the steppe have come to a very real crossroad: to keep fighting back with spears, poison and guns, until the lions are perhaps all gone, or to embrace new methods of protecting their livestock. With support from the National Geographic Big Cats Initiative and other partners, 350 Living Walls are now in place, impacting 7,000 people with countless requests for more.

It seems for many, peace with the lions is worth the effort.

Living Walls are a simple concept derived from a synchrony of community knowledge and modern chain-link fencing, and have proved to be incredibly effective tools against livestock depredation. By working with communities, we have managed to create a solution that has a virtually 100% success rate. (Photo by African People and Wildlife Fund/Deirdre Leowinata)

*In the original interview, Julius Laizer mentioned that his wall was built in 2007, but after a fact check we have changed the year to 2012, the year it was actually built.

Colors make life brighter, and our Loibor Siret Simba club just added a whole lot more color to their school walls. Over three days, some very committed Wildlife Club members decorated two classrooms and one very large outside wall with letters, numbers, and local wildlife.

We had the great pleasure of hosting wildlife artist and conservation advocate Alison Nicholls at Noloholo for just over a week, and as soon as she arrived we hit the ground running with three long days of taping walls, stenciling, mixing colors, and painting.

The classrooms of standards 4 and 6 were filled with the animals that not only represent their own wildlife club but the relationships that make up the Tarangire ecosystem. Impalas were placed opposite to hyenas, and livestock faced off with lions in a symbolic representation of the predator-prey system that shapes not only the environment but the culture of the Maasai Steppe. Ungulates followed each other in lines that may (perhaps unintentionally) represent the great seasonal migrations of the region.

Later in the week, wildlife club members of Loibor Siret, Kangala, and Narakauwo got a life drawing lesson from Nicholls herself, which was a very special treat for schools that don’t offer art as a subject. The lessons revealed some hidden artistic talent within the stack of sketches.

The end of the week coincided with the closing of the primary schools, and Loibor Siret primary school played host to the town’s first ever art gallery. Alison presented her work inspired by the people and wildlife of the area, and showcased in the gallery were the works of 59 Simba Club members, two of which were selected by Alison to receive art supplies for their excellent drawing skills. A game of wildlife trivia selected 33 wildlife club members who would receive a laminated print of one of her special works. Undoubtedly, the first to go were the animal paintings. If the week was any indication of what the future holds, the enthusiasm and dedication of the students as they carefully painted in stencils of elephants and lions, the smiles on their faces as they learned how to draw a rhino, and the murmurs as they listened to the story behind Alison’s pink elephants* bodes well for wildlife conservation in this town.

As animals mark their territories, so did the students of the primary school this week. On the wall facing the village road, big enough for any passerby to see, a large map of Tanzania has been painted containing its green, blue, black, and yellow flag. And below the name of the school is none other than the mark of the Noloholo Simba Club — a pair of lions, which stand overlooking a parade of African wildlife.

*The story behind the elephants can be found on Alison’s website under “Artwork,” “Original Paintings,” and “Elephant!”

Monday mornings, although they may bring about familiar feelings, are different for various regions of the world. In the village of Loibor Siret, the rising smell of roasting meat welcomes a new week. As congregations of red- and blue-garbed men and women head toward the aromatic wafts of beef and mutton, market day in the village begins. People come from all over on bicycles laden six or seven feet high with clothes, house ware, spices, and food supplies.

On one particular Monday though, something changed. A new entity arrived in the marketplace: a wave of blue school sweaters with peaks of white collars. The wave swept into the market with a rush of cheering as our Noloholo Wildlife Club members from Loibor Siret primary school arrived for their first marketplace education day.

Armed with brooms and rubber gloves, the Loibor Siret Lion Club picked up trash, swept it away, or burned it, until the market area looked brand new. The club chairman then delegated teams of two to circle the assorted stalls to inform community members of what they were doing that day. The scene was truly a sight to behold.

As the day went on, the market became crowded as community members sought sugar, soap, and meat. The stall that garnered the most curiosity, however, was the one attended by the primary school students where conversations about how to keep the village clean and how to protect their natural resources were overheard. And the most impressive part was that they did it all on their own.

The ultimate measure of success for a program like our Noloholo wildlife clubs is independent functioning. In just the past few weeks, we have seen the members of this year’s wildlife clubs blossoming into true environmental leaders in their communities. Like a family, a huge bonus of working so closely with local communities is being able to watch change as it happens. And, boy, are we proud.

As elders gathered around the table with genuine questions about how they could help their environment, knowledge passed between generations of the past and of the future with respect and open minds. Perhaps the wider world can take a page out of the book of this little Maasai town.

Left to right: Namelok, Karakai, and Rahely are three of our more senior scholars. Bonding happens quickly during the scholars’ two-week stay at camp.

We all remember high school. The days of cramming for full days (or not), the horror that was public speaking, along with the mild to extreme social pressure that hits everyone at some point in time. Once a year, our Noloholo Environmental Scholars can escape from all that.

Scholars enter the dorm at camp in Noloholo. During their stay, the students spend every moment together whether sleeping or waking.

They come home from boarding school in Monduli and spend two weeks in camp together to bond and help each other through whatever difficulties they may have, whether in school or out. And if they weren’t close before, everything changes pretty fast while they study for their standardized school exams. With days that start at 8am and don’t stop until 10pm, they spend every moment, whether sleeping or waking, together. When I was that age, a week in I would have been hesitant to return to the classroom at 8pm for the night session, but when asked, our scholars just say “We want to go back to study”. And that’s the kind of commitment that brought them to where they are now. Bringing them together in camp provides a unique opportunity: the younger scholars can gain valuable mentorship from their elders, and the senior scholars can learn all the better, because you never learn more than you do by teaching. Plus, when you’re going to boarding school in an unfamiliar place, it’s always good to have friends.

A teacher from Moringe Secondary School helps a group of Form 1 students tackle subjects including Physics, Chemistry, Biology, Math, Geography, History, English, and Swahili.

For the scholars, intensive work in new and difficult situations is a part of everyday life. Not only have they left their homes in the villages, but also here in Tanzania, secondary school classes are taught in English with no transition period in between to learn the language. Last week, each of our scholars got up in front of the classroom to teach a subject of their choice – and yes, it was in English. Sure, there were nerves, and watching them may have released my own scary memories of high school French class, but I never had to explain advanced functions, research methods, or the concept of relative density in French in order to maintain my prospect of finishing high school.

Kelvin teaches his fellow scholars how to calculate the density of an object. The best way to learn is to teach, and each student taught one subject of their choice during their stay.

What each and every one of these scholars has achieved is nothing short of inspiring. During the day, they display tremendously high levels of discipline, determination, and maturity. It is only when the books are closed, the sunlight hits their faces, and they head down to play and chatter with cheeky smiles that their adolescence becomes apparent.

Work hard, play hard. After a long day of studying, the students (and the teacher too!) enjoy a game of soccer by the dorm.

So what exactly is our scholar retreat? It is school, it is camp, and it is a little cross-section of life in its most concentrated form. But, like a cocoon, what comes out is visibly and marvelously different from what goes in, and it’s a very special thing to see. For our education team here at Noloholo, it means a whole lot more than any of our scholars may realize. If we had to pick a moment that makes our work worthwhile, a great place to start is this period of time when our scholars come and show us just how much they’ve grown.

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